


Behind Blue Eyes

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Angst, Crossovers: Other, Drama, First Times, M/M, crossovers, other pairing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How far would Section go to discover the secrets of the Sentinel? Some people will use any means necessary...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This is my first attempt at a crossover fan fic. But I couldn't resist. The idea kept calling to me. Even when I sleep. (I hate when that happens...) This is a crossover between La Femme Nikita and The Sentinel. Rated NC-17 for graphic m/m consensual sex as well as occasional bad language. 

## Behind Blue Eyes

by Silk

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/silkntin/warning.htm>

Author's disclaimer: Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All LFN characters belong to WB, USA, LFN Productions, and Fireworks Entertainment. All TS characters belong to Paramount and Pet Fly. No one's making any money here. 

* * *

Behind Blue Eyes  
By ~Silk 

Part 1 

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" 

Michael glared at the Head of Section One. Operations had never been one of his favorite people, but what he was doing now strained the bounds of the purely practical working relationship forged between the two men. 

It wasn't that Michael was surprised to find himself in the White Room. Again. Operations was a fairly easy read when it came to predicting what he would do. He was heavily invested in power plays and mind fucks...and yes, he _would_ use anything and everything against a target. 

But Michael was no target. 

Or he hadn't been. 

Until the anthropologist came to Section. Blair Sandburg. Short, cheerful, animated Blair Sandburg. Not at all the type of man Section usually concerned itself with. Targets were invariably one of two types. Either they were dull gray, crafted and cloaked for concealment. Or they were bright, heartstopping red, meant to be taken seriously at all times. 

But Sandburg was different. His doctoral dissertation just published, Sandburg epitomized the social scientist. Ceaselessly curious, he could not help but ask questions. And in this case, those questions hypothesized the existence of Sentinels. A Sentinel was something of a behavioral throwback even as it was something too cutting-edge to exist in the current world. 

What a paradox. On the outside, Sandburg became a pariah, initially for espousing views that sounded so outlandish, it didn't matter whether or not they could be proven, later for denigrating his own work as that of a charlatan. Decried as a fraud, living like an outlaw, Sandburg had no idea that anyone would be interested in what was left of that work. 

Inside that alternate reality called Section One, however, Sandburg was treated like visiting royalty. Though he was in fact denied the right to call himself Doctor, Sandburg could not help but be intrigued by Section's tendency to overlook that detail. Hell, the truth was, he was positively fascinated by the closed society that Section represented. Why, the operative hierarchy alone would be worth a lifetime of study. 

But fascination or not, Sandburg eventually realized just how dangerous Section was. This was no trip down the Amazon. There were no friendly natives. But there _were_ cannibals. They even had their own language. And the word "loyalty" was not in their vocabulary. 

Which, in a way, was how Michael ended up in the White Room. 

End Part 1 

Part 2 

It wasn't like Sandburg was an invited guest. He wasn't. He was, in fact, abducted at gunpoint. Sad to say, it was not the first time. Or even the third. Or fifth. As Jim Ellison's partner, he was continually subjected to things that only police officers, or God forbid, hostages, might endure. 

But Jim Ellison was a detective with the police department in Cascade, Washington. Blair...ah, Blair Sandburg enjoyed, if such a word could be applied to his situation, all of the privileges of being shot at, kidnapped, poisoned, drugged, and dragged into a helicopter thousands of feet in the air. All of this on the strength of his credentials as an observer. Not a police officer. 

Not that it mattered. Sandburg did all those things and more, but not because he lusted after a change in career. No, he did those things to stay at the side of his Sentinel. He would have followed Jim Ellison anywhere. In fact, he often did. But like an everpresent shadow, he was taken for granted. Until the day he died. 

Wouldn't Section have been interested in the details of that particular day? Tell us how you died, Dr. Sandburg. Well, there was this woman...and then a fountain...and...are you sure you want to hear about this? Oh, yes, Dr. Sandburg. 

It wasn't one of his happier memories. Obviously. People could talk all they wanted about the near-death experiences they had, but they weren't anything like this. That mystical bonding was what brought Sandburg back. His animal spirit, the wolf, and Jim's animal spirit, the black jaguar, literally merged, becoming one entity. It brought Sandburg back to life. But it didn't make him happy. 

What would have made him happy would have been Jim admitting that he loved Blair, in every sense of the word. That was what Blair longed for. That was what he never got. No, Jim said, "I'm not ready to go there with you, Chief." Now whether he meant that he couldn't make their relationship physical was a question that tortured Blair. Sometimes.... Sometimes he thought that he wouldn't even mind if Jim never touched him again...if he would only tell him that he was in love with him. 

But that would never happen. Not now. 

Once Sandburg's dissertation was released, it didn't matter that he had no hand in it, however small. It didn't matter that once again, his mother, who popped in and out of his life like that cute witch Samantha's mother on Bewitched, ran roughshod over his wishes, trampling the essence of his dreams under her unwitting feet. It didn't matter because of how Jim reacted. 

He didn't trust Blair. He pushed him away. No more careless caresses. No more hugs. No more "I love you, Chief," even if it _didn't_ mean what Blair wanted. 

So Blair did the only thing he could have done and still stay true to his heart. He gave it all up. His life's work. Because nothing meant _anything_ without Jim in his life. Even now, if he let his mind linger too long on that press conference, he could feel the unshed tears choking his throat. It wasn't about the public humiliation. God knew, he had little enough self-esteem as it was. He never placed a very high value on himself. No one wanted him, at least not enough to brave the obstacles he put in their way. Only Jim had gotten inside his meager defenses. And he would do anything to keep him there. 

No, when he announced that he was a fraud, his dissertation a fake, he chilled to see how willing the public and the university were to believe him. But like a Sentinel subtext, the real message was meant for Sentinel ears alone. I love you, Jim. I'm doing this for _you_. I was wrong. It wasn't about friendship at all. It was about me loving you so much...I would die for you. I _did_ die for you, man. But I _came back_ for you, too, Jim. And now, if you can't hear me, if you can't love me back, I _will_ die, man. Cause I got nothing left. Not a goddamn thing. 

End Part 2 

Part 3 

All things considered, when Sandburg was taken at gunpoint to Section One's headquarters in Europe, he really couldn't find an immediate reason to object. He'd spent his entire life waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now it had. Big fucking deal. 

It was the interrogation that gave him his first inkling that things might not go nearly as smoothly as he thought. 

Michael cut a daunting figure, all in black. Tall. Like Jim. Strong. Like Jim. Terse, even silent at times. Again, like Jim. The long, cinnamon-colored hair that curled at his neck combined with those changeable grey-green eyes made him look exceptionally attractive to Blair. Unfortunately, that wasn't why he was there. 

Or was it? 

"Mr. Sandburg...." 

Blair noted that Michael did _not_ address him as though he had his doctorate in Anthropology. He wondered if a European like Michael read the Cascade papers. That struck him so funny, it was all he could not to laugh out loud. One look at that stern visage told him that would not be wise. 

"Our organization...." Pause for effect. Michael was nothing if not a master of the dramatic. Nice work, man. Blair gave the man a mental thumbs' up. He made it sound like the fucking Mafia or something. Heh. 

"...is extremely interested in your...work." Heh. The way Michael paused over the word "work" made Blair think, Gee, I wonder what _you_ do for a living. Nope, don't answer that question. Probably something that starts with anarchy and ends in terrorism. 

His extraordinary eyes, the color of dull pewter now, flickered over Blair's face with more than casual interest. "We want to know everything you can tell us...about the Sentinel you described...in your...dissertation." 

"H-he's not. A Sentinel, I mean. I m-made it up. Didn't you read the headlines? I'm a fucking fraud, man. It's all a lie." 

Michael gave Blair a disappointed look, the rise of one eyebrow indicating his almost palpable feeling of disbelief. Blair filled the ensuing silence with almost painfully bright chatter. "What do you think? It's like a comic book. It's X-Men stuff, man. Hyperactive senses. I mean, come on. Get real." 

All at once Blair wished desperately that he were a better liar. He knew he could never survive a real interrogation. He swallowed hard, a lump the size of a peach pit in his throat now. He had no life anymore. He could handle death. Hey, God? Been there, done that. No offense, man. But when he thought of giving up Jim's secrets, secrets that had never really been _his_ to tell...well, that would just be, like, the final violation, man. 

As if he were reading Blair's mind, Michael switched tactics, using his own very real attraction to Blair to full advantage. Slowly, inexorably, he drifted closer to the smaller man, letting the roughened tips of his fingers gently abrade his cheek. Michael registered the other man's sharp intake of breath as arousal, automatically cataloguing it along with other thoughts and feelings he was picking up. 

"You-you're just doing this c-cause Section told you to, man. You're like a fucking robot. You're not g-getting to m-me." Blair clenched his teeth together so hard, his jaw began to ache. 

Michael smiled enigmatically. "Section did tell me to use any...means...necessary." He tucked a strand of Blair's long curly hair behind one ear, the gesture strangely intimate yet not inappropriate. 

He leaned close, his breath whispering across the top of Blair's ear. "But they don't own me." 

"Are you...um...telling me...you...um...want to do this?" 

In answer, Michael touched his lips to Blair's ear, his tongue flicking out to moisten, his teeth seeking to nibble, at that delicious earlobe. 

End Part 3 

Part 4 

Blair started to tremble in earnest as Michael's tongue caressed the inside of his ear. "S-stop. Please?" He kept telling himself that the only reason it felt so good was because it had been a long time since he had any kind of sex. That included saying hi to Mr. Hand. 

That was what gave him the will to withstand the temptation of Michael in full Valentine mode. To put it simply, there was enough of a resemblance between Michael and Jim for Blair to become aroused. But the reason he had gone so long without sex was because he didn't want anyone but Jim. 

"Your body wants it," Michael whispered into his ear, and Blair's manacled hands clutched at the arms of the metal chair. 

"My body wants a lot of things. That doesn't mean it gets 'em," Blair snapped back. 

Michael smiled. What a telling remark. "Your Sentinel doesn't appreciate all of your...assets?" 

"If you mean, am I sleeping with him, the answer is emphatically no." 

A soft chuckle escaped Michael's lips. "But you'd like to." 

"What is this? Twenty questions? Just ask me whatever the fuck you want to know and be done with it." Blair was fast running out of patience. Not to mention willpower. The urge to sublimate his attraction to Jim through Michael was growing stronger by the minute. He didn't know if he could resist. Especially if Michael turned up the heat. 

"Does your Sentinel know that you...crave his body?" Michael whispered into Blair's other ear, totally disconcerting him. Just when he got accustomed to where Michael was in relation to him...Michael changed things. It was a good way to keep him off-balance. 

"Look, he's not my fucking Sentinel. I told you. None of that stuff is true. He's just an ordinary cop." 

Michael walked slowly around Blair until he stood in front of him again, his arms folded neatly over his chest. "An ordinary cop," Michael repeated. Giving Blair a curious sidelong glance, he said, "An ordinary cop could never hope to elude Section. Ellison seems to be one jump ahead of us at every turn. How do you explain that? If he's... _not_...a Sentinel?" 

"What do you mean?" 

Michael shook his head. "He sees and hears us coming. Even on dark approach. That sound familiar to you?" 

Blair narrowed his eyes, looking up at Michael. "If he was a fucking Sentinel, why would he let me be captured?" 

"Good question. Maybe he doesn't place that high a value on your life." Michael's casual words struck true fear into Blair's heart. It was what he'd been telling himself for months. But to hear it from another's lips, especially a somewhat disinterested party, hurt. 

Michael took note of the younger man's apparent distress, which he was unable to keep off his face, briefly wondering why it bothered him. He was no stranger to interrogation. Nor was he inexperienced with Valentine missions. Even the fact that Blair was a man was not necessarily a deterrent. There were things in Michael's past that Section wasn't aware of. Some potentially dangerous. Some merely...interesting. 

"The truth is..." Michael began, only to be cut short by Blair's surly, "You wouldn't know the truth if it jumped up on my lap and introduced itself!" 

Stifling the desire to choke the life out of the young scientist, Michael continued, his face showing absolutely no trace of his inner irritability. "As I was saying..." Michael paused, as if waiting to be interrupted again, pondering how it was possible that Blair Sandburg seemed unaffected by the not-inconsiderable array of weapons of intimidation present. 

"The truth is, Section wants Jim Ellison. To study. To...create a whole new breed of anti-terrorist warrior. One with advantages the other side could only dream about." It was unusual for Michael to feel so passionate about his work. Most of the time, his feelings were carefully compartmentalized, divorced from the task at hand. It was a necessity. To take any other path would mean madness. 

"Then why take me? Why not just read my fucking dissertation? Hey, I've got an idea. Let me up, I'll just run down to Kinko's and make you a copy. Be back in a jiff," quipped Blair sarcastically. 

"As I said..." Michael averted his face, curiously loath to admit that Section had in fact failed in its primary mission. To acquire Jim Ellison and his Sentinel abilities. "So far, he's managed to elude capture." 

"And you think I can help you?" As if. 

Michael turned back to face the younger man. "We think that Ellison will come for you." 

"In other words, I'm the cheese." 

Michael almost smiled. "Something like that." 

"There's only one problem with your splendid scenario," Blair sneered at the Level 5 cold op. 

"Ellison doesn't want anything to do with me." 

At Michael's raised eyebrow, Blair added, a ferocious note entering his voice. "We've already established that I want him. But what you seem to have missed, despite your state-of-the-art technocrap, is that he doesn't want me." 

This time, Michael did smile, his eyes glowing a brilliant shade of green. " _We_ think you're wrong." 

"Then you can all get fucked." 

End Part 4 

Part 5 

Birkoff stood in the doorway of the White Room, his entire body tense. He had memories of the time he was sent there, memories so terrible, so indelible, he might never get over them. Still, he came. His feelings for Michael, never voiced, clawed their way from the depths of his being and into his throat, choking him. 

Michael sensed his presence, but never took his eyes off the man he was interrogating. "What is it, Birkoff?" 

"Michael..." he began, eyeing the threshold of the room anxiously. He couldn't bring himself to enter the room. "Operations wants a report on what you've got so far." 

"I'm not done here." 

At the risk of sounding insubordinate, Birkoff promptly contradicted Michael. "Yes, you are. Operations said-" 

"I heard you the first time, Birkoff," Michael snapped. Birkoff blinked. He was accustomed to Michael's terseness, even his apparent moodiness. It was all part and parcel of the dark knight's persona. But Michael never became personally involved. Never. His bittersweet chocolate eyes studied the man in the chair. So this was the exception to Michael's rule. Shit. 

Birkoff resisted the urge to protest, But you never look at me that way! How can you waste all this time on someone who doesn't want you? I want you. I...it's more than that. It's always been more than that. Birkoff's emotions were painfully visible, written across a sensitive face that probably deserved better, but would never find it. 

Blair's smoky blue eyes met Birkoff's for an instant. Birkoff jerked back a half-step from the contact, seeing kindness, compassion, even empathy, in the eyes of a prisoner. How could a stranger see what he so carefully hid inside himself? What he never revealed to anyone, not even the man he...no, he didn't dare think that way. 

Slowly Birkoff backed away, deciding to let Michael take the consequences of his actions. It wasn't up to him to interfere. But it would kill him if Michael failed. If Operations sent Michael to Abeyance. Or worse, if he finally acted on his fervent desire to cancel him. 

"Are you still here, Birkoff?" There was an underlying edge to Michael's voice that Birkoff rarely, if ever, heard. 

"What do you want me to...tell him?" Birkoff couldn't believe he'd asked that. He wished the words back into his mouth, but it was no use. 

Michael glanced at Birkoff curiously, as if he were weighing some unseen option. He moved closer to the younger man, his hand reaching out as if he would touch Birkoff's cheek, a gesture that would be as familiar as it would be out of character. His hand abruptly dropped to Birkoff's right shoulder, settling for an avuncular pat. His eyes more gray than green now, Michael unconsciously rubbed his thumb against Birkoff's shoulder as he spoke. It was all Birkoff could do not to shudder and melt into that body. "Birkoff...it won't reflect badly on you. There's no need to worry." 

"It's not me I'm worried about," Birkoff blurted out, his face flushing dark red. 

Michael gave Birkoff a crooked half-smile that Blair would have sworn would never cross the older man's lips. "I'll be okay." Birkoff took that to mean that Michael thought his only interest in him was protective. Relieved that Michael still seemed in the dark about his feelings for him, Birkoff nodded slightly and left. 

* * *

"So...you want to continue your research? Let us set you up in a state-of-the-art lab. Wouldn't that be your dream come true?" 

It would be if you had asked me before the whole dissertation fiasco, yeah. Talk about timing. But now, you're asking me to help you set a trap for Jim. 

"All I have to do is give you Jim, huh?" 

Michael nodded. 

"Well, he's not mine to give." Blair blushed at the unbidden desire that welled up in him. I wish he was mine, but I certainly wouldn't trade his life for my own. State-of-the-art, my ass. Captivity is captivity, no matter how nice the cage looks. 

"You're being very altruistic, Mr. Sandburg," Michael purred in that low sensual voice of his. 

"Hardly," Blair snorted. "If you really want to know, I'm being goddamned selfish. I need Jim to survive. If that means he has to do it without me, so be it." 

Michael made a moue of disappointment. "Such a sacrifice. And so unnecessary. You could always be together. Here." 

"Jim will never come for me." He prayed he was telling the truth. Once he'd been convinced that he no longer mattered to Jim, but somehow, the effort, the lengths to which Section was going, cast doubt into his mind. And his heart. 

"I think he will. But let's make sure that he does." 

Michael bent to unfasten the manacles that restrained Blair's legs. Producing a pair of handcuffs, he quickly released Blair from the arm restraints as well, snapping the cuffs over his wrists. 

Michael stared deeply into Blair's face, his eyes no longer dispassionate and cool. "There's a bond between you two. He will come. If he thinks that someone else is interested in possessing what he already considers to be his." 

"I told you. He doesn't have those kinds of feelings for me." 

"Too bad. But he will sense that his Guide is in danger...and he will respond. Won't he? Even if he doesn't care?" 

Blair clasped his manacled hands together in front of him and stared at the floor. "Yeah," he whispered, almost inaudibly. 

Michael moved so rapidly, Blair never saw it coming. He claimed the younger man's mouth in a kiss, his hands threading through all those silky brown curls. Nudging his mouth open under his, Michael plundered the treasure within, his tongue sweeping inside. 

"You are so beautiful," Michael whispered against Blair's mouth. 

Blair felt helpless against such a sensual onslaught, but he couldn't prevent himself from responding. An inarticulate noise escaping him, Blair nuzzled the mouth that bedeviled him. 

Unable to tell if Michael truly desired him, or if this was just another in a series of manipulations, Blair sighed Jim's name. In his heart, there would always be Jim. 

Michael drew back, quite breathless himself. "Ellison must be a fool." 

"What?" 

"To not take something this beautiful when it's offered?" 

Blair started to shake his head. "I-I never said I told him, man. Just that he doesn't feel the same way." 

"How do you know?" 

"I just do, man. Okay?" 

"I meant...how do you know that he doesn't know how you feel?" Michael traced a path along Blair's cheek with his tongue, making the younger man groan. 

"Well, look at me. I mean, the man'd have to be totally asleep at the switch to miss how I feel." 

Michael smiled. "Then let's wake him up." 

End Part 5 

Part 6-NC-17 

Michael escorted Blair through the maze of corridors that made up Section One. No one so much as gave them a curious glance. That made Blair wonder about Michael's reputation. He didn't think it was respect alone that compelled everyone to give them a wide berth. Again and again, he reminded himself that this was an undeniably dangerous man. 

After a short ride in the lift, they entered a new area. Section personnel who were temporarily assigned to One were quartered here, along with a certain percentage of people who lived there on a more permanent basis. Interestingly, Birkoff was one of those people. 

What no one except Oversight knew was that there was an apartment on this level, a suite of rooms that could not be found on any blueprint nor accessed by anyone but Michael. Keying in the entry code, Michael pushed the handcuffed man through the doorway as soon as it opened. 

Plush by Section standards, the apartment looked like a futuristic version of a mediocre hotel suite. However, one of the reasons it remained so valuable was its lack of surveillance. Everyone everywhere was constantly being watched. People who forgot often ended up dead. But this set of rooms did not exist. Therefore, it left a gaping but invisible hole in One's surveillance net. 

Michael opened his suit jacket with one hand, commanding Blair to sit down. 

"Where?" 

"On the bed." 

Blair involuntarily shook his head. He could feel the waves of attraction emanating from the Level 5 cold op, but he would be damned if he would assist in his own seduction. 

Michael strode over to where Blair stood uncertainly and gave the smaller man's chest a shove with the palm of his hand, causing him to land on the expansive double bed with a bounce. 

"Hey," Blair protested. Then he shut his mouth, realizing that far worse things might lay in store for him than this. 

"Take your clothes off." 

That took him by surprise. 

"Shit, you're a real closet romantic, Michael. Does that tone of voice usually get you anywhere?" Blair asked sarcastically. 

"Would you feel better if I said please?" 

"I'd feel better if I wasn't the only one getting undressed here." 

"I don't need to get undressed yet," Michael said softly. 

Blair rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me. You like to watch?" 

"That would be...difficult...since there are only two of us." 

"You could invite someone else to the party. How about that kid I saw earlier? What's his name, Birkoff?" 

That struck a nerve. Michael's face shut down completely. That wasn't a blank stare. It was an emotional blackhole. "No." 

"No, his name isn't Birkoff, or no, he can't come out and play?" 

"You ask too many questions." 

"What are you going to do to me, Michael? Kill me?" 

"Without thinking twice," the senior field operative replied coolly. 

"Sorry, I've already been dead. I didn't like the scenery." Blair crossed his arms in front of him, setting his sensual mouth into a mutinous pout. 

"Your mouth is going to get you into trouble someday." 

"My mouth is what you want. Isn't it, Michael?" 

"We can do this one of two ways. Either you lie down willingly. Or I take you by force." 

Blair's eyes narrowed. "You won't rape me." 

"You sound very sure of yourself." 

"I am. You forget. Observing people is what I do for a living. Or it...was." Blair shifted uncomfortably under Michael's continued scrutiny. "Granted, you don't give a helluva lot away. But I know you, man. Taking someone by force isn't your thing. You already get way too much of that here. Nah...you want someone to come to your bed...because they want to be there." 

Michael flushed, a perfectly normal involuntary reaction in most people. But Michael hated anything he could not control, and he felt his body betraying him. 

Blair looked intently into Michael's face, seizing what little advantage he might have. "Fucking me would be an exercise in futility, man." 

Blue eyes blazing, he stood up, face to face with the older man. "I know who you really want. I'm just a fucking stand-in for the real thing. You know it, too, don't you?" 

"You can't seduce me into giving up Jim. I won't do it. You won't rape me. It doesn't serve any purpose. And you're nothing if not a company man, Michael." 

Michael stared at him silently, neither confirming nor denying what he said. 

Suddenly there was a loud rapping at the door. Michael's eyes turned black as his pupils dilated. No one knew about these rooms. No one. 

Motioning Blair to move into the bathroom, Michael drew his gun. He edged closer to the door, hearing what sounded like muttering and cursing on the other side. Pressing the panel to open the door, he readied himself to grab whoever was out there. But he had to admit, he wasn't ready for the sight of the slight young man wavering in the doorway. 

"Birkoff!" Michael exclaimed, pulling the Comm op inside with a hushed cry. 

After re-locking the door, he holstered the gun and faced the younger man, a taut expression on his face. "How did you find us, and what are you doing here?" 

"I always know where you are," Birkoff whispered. 

Michael blinked. "What do you mean?" 

"I...watch you." 

"Why?" Michael demanded. 

Blair chose that moment to come out of the bathroom, determined to intervene. "Why don't you leave the little guy alone?" 

Birkoff flinched as if struck. "Little guy? Gee, thanks. Coming from you that must be what passes for mordant wit." 

"Hey, I'm on your side, Birkoff," Blair frowned. 

"Don't do me any favors, okay?" The head of Comm seemed quite beside himself. "I've been watching you, Michael. It's been days now, and you're practically obsessed with this hippie punk!" 

Michael calmly returned, "It's my job to-" 

"-gather intel. Right, Michael. So what kind of intel-gathering did you have in mind? Fucking him stupid?" 

Michael's eyes grew glacial, twin chips of pale green ice warning Birkoff that he was on dangerous ground. 

"I've been waiting for you to come to your senses for too long now. I can't stand it anymore! What's wrong with me?" 

"There could never be anything between us, Birkoff, and you know it. You're too young-" 

Birkoff pivoted on one heel sharply, poking Blair with his finger. "How old are you?" 

"Uh...um...uh...30...why?" 

Birkoff ignored Blair and turned back to the man he wanted more than breath itself. "I'm 25, Michael! Five years! He's five years older than I am! Next excuse!" 

Michael's voice abruptly gentled. "Birkoff...you don't know anything but this life. You've never been anywhere but here. I can't ask you to give up the rest of your life for a one-night stand." 

"The rest of my life? What life? Michael, we're all fucking dead! Dead to the outside, yes! But we might as well be dead here on the inside, too!" 

Birkoff's anger empowered him in a way that left him aching as well as breathless. Moving closer to Michael, Birkoff insinuated his body into the space between Michael's legs. Pressing against Michael's groin, Birkoff was gratified to note that he had a fairly assertive erection. 

"You don't have to ask me, Michael. I'm offering," Birkoff said, obviously forgetting Blair's presence. "And if I had anything to say about it, it wouldn't be just one night," he finished hoarsely. 

"You...want me that much?" Michael sounded incredulous. 

"I've wanted you for so long, I can't remember a time when I didn't. But no, it wouldn't be just sex for me, Michael. I'm in love with you." 

Blair's bright blue eyes grew round. He liked happy endings. But he didn't think he wanted to be at ground zero when Michael and Birkoff came together for the first time. 

Michael sighed. Birkoff held his breath. Blair chewed his fingernails. 

"I'm not an easy man to love, Birkoff. Everyone who's tried is gone. Are you sure you want to be a part of--?" 

Birkoff kissed him. What he lacked in experience, he more than made up for with enthusiasm. Michael relented at last, his body accepting the inevitable and welcoming the youthful intruder. 

When the two men broke apart, it was rapidly apparent that they were both under the influence of more than mere hormones. They gazed raptly into each other's eyes until Blair coughed. Politely. 

"I'm sorry. Question from the man still in handcuffs. Could I please be excused from this part? I'm really not a voyeur, and I don't like participating in anybody's sex life but my own." 

Birkoff shivered as the roughened edges of Michael's fingertips caressed the side of his face. How many times had he watched him use that same gesture? On other people? Usually female. But it was different now that it was directed at him. 

"Ohhh..." Since Blair was certain that this was a groan of impending ecstasy, he nearly interjected again. But Birkoff wasn't moaning, he was remembering. "Michael, Ellison's on his way. I confirmed the intel myself." 

Blair couldn't help himself. "Jim's coming? For me?" he asked hopefully. 

Michael almost smiled. "I told you he would, Blair." 

"Well, yeah, but that was when you were talking about taking me to bed and all that and-Shit!" 

Michael and Birkoff looked at Blair in unison. "What?" 

"They'll fucking kill him, man! They don't know how to treat someone like him! They'll run him through tests that'll obliterate his senses and drive him crazy!" 

"Michael, we've got to help them," Birkoff said. 

"You can be frustratingly human when you remember to be, Birkoff," Michael said dryly. 

Birkoff smiled coyly at his dark knight, a tiny crease around the corner of his mouth betraying that it was a genuine heartstopper. "I've got an idea." 

* * *

That was how Michael ended up in bed with Birkoff for the very first time. At first, he was convinced that it was a manipulation, but Birkoff was, as usual, without guile. "Are you sure this is going to work?" 

"If it doesn't, at least I'll die happy," Birkoff whispered softly against Michael's neck. 

Birkoff deliberately leaked the location of the room to the normal surveillance channels, knowing that eventually, the news would reach Operations. By that time, though, they hoped that their ruse, Birkoff taking Blair's place with Michael, would buy Blair enough time to re-connect with his Sentinel. 

Michael lay on his back, feeling strangely at peace, now that his secret desire for Birkoff had been discovered. By the young man himself. Running his fingers over the top of Birkoff's short-cropped hair, he thought it felt like brushed velvet. "I can't promise you forever, Birkoff. I wish I could." 

"That's okay, Michael. You've already given me more than I had any right to expect." 

"No, you have every right to expect...someone to love you. But I don't know if I will ever be able to say those words to you." 

Birkoff's dark eyes gleamed as he looked down at Michael. "But you can feel them, in your heart, can't you?" 

Michael nodded mutely. 

Birkoff smiled. "That's all I ever wanted." 

Trailing warm, wet kisses down the length of Michael's lean but muscular frame, Birkoff stopped just above his groin, as if waiting for permission. The clenching of Michael's hand in his hair was all the signal he needed. Taking Michael's already-hardened length into his hand, Birkoff stroked lightly as his tongue flicked out to acquaint itself with its silken texture. "You taste good." 

"Considering you don't have any basis for comparison, I'm not sure how much of a compliment that is, Birkoff." Michael arched his back, thrusting his throbbing erection deeper into his lover's mouth. 

Birkoff let Michael's cock fall slowly out of his hot, moist mouth, nuzzling the tip with his nose. "If you're mean to me, I'll stop," he said in a sing-song voice, knowing it was an idle threat at best. He loved the taste of Michael in his mouth, and he wasn't about to give up that pleasure any time soon. 

"I'd rather not play oneupsmanship while your teeth are so close to my dick." 

Birkoff groaned and rubbed his own cock against Michael's firm thigh, wetness leaking from its head. "Mmm, all these years, we've never had a real conversation, and now that we are...I'm surprised by what's coming out of your mouth." 

"But not by what's going into it?" Michael gave Birkoff an enigmatic look. 

"Does that mean, if I suck you off, you plan to return the favor?" 

"If I'm still awake." 

Birkoff grabbed the other pillow and started to pummel the senior field op with it. But Michael rolled over, taking the Comm op with him. Now Birkoff was lying trapped beneath Michael, a fact that might have made him nervous if it were not for the fact that he was already pulsating with excitement. "Don't fuck with me, Birkoff." 

"I want to fuck with you, Michael." 

"Mmm...I'll think about it." He gently pushed his way between Birkoff's legs, preferring to forego penetration this first time. 

"Michael, I'm not afraid. I know you won't hurt me," Birkoff declared. On the contrary, Birkoff sounded like he could barely wait to merge his body with Michael's. 

"I'm too hot to make it good for you now. Maybe later." 

" _I_ made you that hot, Michael?" 

"Birkoff, you have no idea." 

Another ardent kiss, another thrust into the younger man's groin, and sticky wetness covered both of them as Michael came first, followed by Birkoff. 

"Ohhh, God...." Another gasp as sensation spread through him like sleepy fire. 

"I love you, Michael." 

If Birkoff hadn't closed his eyes at the moment of climax, he might have seen the fervent glance those words engendered. But then again, he might have told himself that he imagined it. 

End Part 6 

Part 7 

Jim Ellison would give Section One its due. They knew how to bait a trap successfully. Jim knew that he was walking into what was more than likely a no-win situation, but he had to come. This was Sandburg. No...it was Blair. Strange how it took yet another abduction to make Jim realize just how much Blair meant to him. 

But this was different. This wasn't Lash or Brackett or anyone else they had dealt with in the past. These people were serious players who didn't believe in negotiation. The only agenda was their agenda. 

Section might indeed be a totally worthy adversary, but they should never have tried to fuck with Jim Ellison. He had only one agenda: to protect what was his. And goddammit, he was sorry it had taken Blair's complete subjugation, not to mention his death, for him to see what had been staring him in the face all along. Blair was his. 

He could not sit this one out. He would save him...or die trying. 

Jim approached Van Access as quietly as possible, though he was certain Section already had him on whatever passed for high-tech radar these days. Making his way through the doors, which automatically opened, he was struck by the silence and the lack of resistance that greeted him. 

He could almost hear the voices in his head wailing, Sucker.... His gun hand stretched out straight in front of him, Jim took one step at a time, checking each and every intersection he came to before proceeding. He was concentrating so hard, he nearly zoned. Only the thought that he must stay alive or Blair would die kept him going. 

He turned a corner sharply, abruptly registering that in his zeal to find Blair, he wasn't using every advantage he had. His hyperactive Sentinel senses had helped him elude capture up till now, but he had no idea where he was or where he was going. Well, that was okay. Jim didn't need a map. He had something better. Blair's heartbeat. 

Of course, Jim had listened for Blair's heartbeat before, if only to reassure himself that Blair was still alive. But now, he let it lead him...straight to him. 

* * *

Operations stood on the Deck, overlooking all of Section One's common areas. Definitely feeling master of all he surveyed, the man formerly known as Paul Wolfe flicked open a Comm channel, his thumb holding it in the active position. "Davenport...let Ellison proceed without challenge. I'll give the command when everything's green to pursue." 

So Michael thought he could best Operations at his own game.... Too bad. He once believed that Michael was his heir apparent, though Section's dark knight rarely demonstrated that kind of ambition, despite countless opportunities literally dangled before him. 

If Michael had what it takes to be the new Operations, Operations would willingly accept the gauntlet thrown down. There could be only one. 

* * *

The constant tug of war between his senses and his need to find Blair was beginning to wear on Jim. All that adrenaline surging through his veins, readying his body for fight or flight, was doing what Section couldn't. Taking him down. Exhausting him. Soon he would have no reserves left. Nothing with which to continue the hunt. But he was almost there. Blair's heartbeat was growing louder. And faster. 

That couldn't be good. 

Jim assumed the worst. That Blair was in imminent danger. But he was wrong. Blair actually managed to make his way fairly close to Jim's position. Some might have called it blind luck; some might have called it instinct. Whatever it was, Blair sensed that Jim was here somewhere, and that alone was enough to escalate his heartrate. 

Finally it seemed as though they would literally collide with each other. Jim came into the next corridor, his gun drawn, and suddenly he was face to face with his Guide. Dropping his gun hand, he immediately exclaimed, "Blair!" 

"Jim!" 

For once, Jim obeyed an impulse that was probably buried so deep inside him, he wasn't even consciously aware of it. Wrapping his arms around Blair, all at once he found himself with an armful of excited, wriggling Guide. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispered into the dark silky curls that framed Blair's face. 

"You never had me," came the charged reply. 

Jim closed his eyes on an intense wave of pain. He deserved that. And he said so. "I'm sorry, Chief. I know I let you go-" 

" _Let_ me go?" Blair broke the embrace with an agility that Jim was ill-prepared to counter. "You fucking pushed me away, man!" 

Jim froze. He heard a noise. It could be nothing. But they couldn't take that chance. They were completely vulnerable, standing in plain sight. Jim searched automatically for a place to hide. Someplace to buy them time. 

He found it on his second sweep of the area. A fucking porter's closet. He literally dragged Blair after him, forcing him into the closet, and shutting the door behind them. "What? You heard something? Someone coming?" 

Jim put his fingers to Blair's lips in an effort to silence him. Big mistake. Suddenly every nerve ending in his body went into overload. "Blair!" he whispered huskily, before he gave in to one more impulse, this one undoubtedly buried deeper than the first. He kissed Blair, a tentative caress of that full sensual mouth that left him aching. 

"Kiss me back...please." Jim was unfamiliar with the concept of begging, and now was a helluva time to start, but he couldn't help himself. 

"Give me one good reason," Blair said in that low voice that captivated Jim's overwhelmed senses. 

"You want it as much as I do." 

Okay, it wasn't the declaration of love he was seeking, but it was a confession of sorts. Jim might never feel ready to take that trip with him, but Blair had a notion to drag him, kicking and screaming, into the Sandburg Zone. 

Hey, he'd worked with less. 

End Part 7 

Part 8 

"You are way overdue for a major revelation, man," Blair said, taking great care to keep his voice low. "But not now. We've got to get out of here." 

"Just like that? You're going to drop this, like I never said a word?" 

"What words, man? I didn't hear you say a goddamn thing." 

"But you know...the kiss. Didn't that mean anything?" 

"A kiss is just a kiss. A sigh is just a sigh-" 

"Sandburg, if you start singing, "As Time Goes By", you're a dead man." 

"You got something against "Casablanca"? Now there was a movie, man-" 

Not for the first time, Jim realized that Blair had raised obfuscation to an artform. This wasn't mere misdirection. Any self-taught magician could do that. This was a song and a dance and a shave and a haircut. When Blair didn't want him to know something, he indulged in this kind of blithe chatter. It was superficial, it was completely beside the point, and it shifted Jim's attention away from whatever it was that Blair didn't want Jim to examine too closely. 

"Dammit, Chief, I'm ready to take the next step!" Jim almost shouted. 

Blair gave him a slow blink. "In your dreams, Ellison. But don't worry, we'll come back to this later. Now pay attention, Jim. Or there won't be a later to come back to." 

Now it was Ellison's turn to fall silent. His epiphany, if he could call it that, was being ignored. He wasn't sure how to react to that. So he took refuge behind the usual wisecrack. "Guess we're in Hell, huh?" 

"Gee, Jim, that was a pretty educated guess," Blair replied sarcastically. "Now follow me. There are a couple of friends I gotta check on, man, before we blow this popsicle stand." 

Jim shook his head as he checked his pockets for the extra clip for his gun. "Only you, Chief. Only you could make friends in a place like this." 

"Yeah, well, these guys are special. They saved my ass, man. Now we gotta try to save theirs." 

Jim felt his nostrils flare as if he were smelling something bad. "You wanna run that by me again, Chief? You had time to develop a special relationship with someone who basically wants to kill you? What are you, a masochist?" 

"Must be. I know you, don't I?" 

"What the hell does that mean?" 

"What the hell do you think it means, Jim?" 

"I don't think I like this side of you, Chief," said Jim, his eyes narrowing to slits. 

"Yeah, well, get used to it, Jim. Cause the only time you're gonna see my ass in the next hour is if you're following me." He cast one last look around the tiny closet that was fast becoming claustrophobic for him. "Let's go." 

Blair actually had his hand on the doorknob before Jim grabbed his wrist. "Chief, tell me the truth here. This-uh--special relationship you developed? Should I be-I dunno, jealous?" 

"The only way you could be jealous, man, would be, like, if you actually fucking loved me. But we both know that isn't gonna happen." 

"Christ, Chief, I love you. You know that. I've said it before." 

Blair's smoky blue eyes never moved off Jim's face. They didn't have time for this. They needed to reach Michael and Birkoff. Now. Or they could never go home again. 

Telling himself that he might regret this for the rest of his sorry life, Blair opened the door and stepped back out into the corridor. Jim followed, gun at the ready. 

* * *

Blair managed to find his way back to the suite where he had last seen Michael and Birkoff. The door wasn't locked. It wasn't even closed. The suite was obviously empty. 

Suddenly Blair had a very bad feeling about all this. "They must have taken them." 

"Where?" 

"To that place where they were holding me. The White Room." 

"Think you can find it again?" 

"I have to. I can't let them die on my behalf, Jim. It's because of me that they're in there." 

"Then we go, Chief. No one's dying tonight, if I can help it." Especially not you. I think I may have finally found something to live for. 

End Part 8 

Part 9 

"Why the fuck did I listen to you?" Jim muttered under his breath. 

But Blair heard him. "Look, man, you can bail if you want. You got what you came for. I forgive you. For whatever the fuck it is that you think you did or will do. Okay? Now blow." 

"Chief, stop right there." Jim was as still as a statue. Now he knew why there had been such silence and such a complete lack of resistance so far. Section had concentrated all its manpower, not to mention whatever high-tech wizardry it had at its command, into one small area. 

Putting a finger to his lips, Jim whispered, "Up ahead. Outside that place you called the-what was it?" 

"White Room." 

Blair hid his fear well. He didn't know why he felt compelled to do this. God knew, Michael and Birkoff could take care of themselves. They wouldn't expect his help, meager as it was. They knew the drill. They... 

...were his friends. He couldn't turn his back on them and walk out of here. That bastard, Operations, the one who ran Section One, was probably counting on that. Well, it was too bad that Blair couldn't find it in himself to be more unpredictable. 

"How many?" 

Jim shook his head. "Hard to say. Too many to count." Jim sighed and looked at Blair. "This isn't how I saw the end, you know." 

"What end?" 

"Us." 

"There never was an "us", Jim. You were too afraid to go for it, remember?" 

"It's just that-if it has to end like this, Chief, I want you to know something." 

Shifting his gun to his other hand, he reached out to trace the curls that fell gently along the side of Blair's face. He could feel Blair's fear, and he knew that the kid was pushing himself beyond that fear for a reason. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me-" 

Whatever else Jim might have said was lost in the ensuing confusion. A large Native American man, almost as big as Jim, was coming down the hallway towards them, his gun drawn and ready. "Put the gun down and your hands up." 

Jim dropped the hand that was stroking Blair's face, and Blair instantly felt the loss. This was it. He was going to lose Jim. Forever. As in dead. As in not coming back. Shit, he didn't care if he died. But he didn't want Jim to risk his life. 

Jim raised the barrel of his own gun and stared back into midnight-black eyes, cold as stone. "No." 

Blair whispered, "Jim. No." 

Without looking at Blair, Jim said, "Only way this can go, Chief. Sorry. I was hoping we'd have more time together before-but hey...at least, we'll be together, right?" 

"Jim..." Blair said between clenched teeth. "You can't fucking die on me, man. I love you." 

Jim turned his head just enough so that he could look into those beautiful blue eyes one more time. "I know." 

He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, but he blinked them back. They'd only get in the way of his shot. 

Suddenly the slight young man that Blair knew as Birkoff stood at the other end of the corridor. "Davenport!" he called out to the shooter. 

"Not now, Birkoff." 

Birkoff closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fortifying himself for whatever lay ahead. "Davenport, stand down." 

That got Davenport's attention. He frowned and took his eyes off Jim, whirling to face the young Comm op. "What did you say?" 

"I said, stand down." 

"That's what I thought you said. This ain't a mission you're running tactical oversight on, Birk. Don't get involved." 

Birkoff started to move closer to the senior field op. 

"Don't come any closer, Birkoff. I mean it. I'm under orders to shoot any and all comers." 

Still Birkoff kept on coming. Shit, that was one brave kid, Davenport thought. His attention totally on Birkoff, Davenport lost sight of where his primary targets went. "Dammit, Birkoff!" 

When he was close enough to whisper to Davenport, Birkoff stopped. There was a new light in his dark chocolate eyes. "Dav, Michael's in the White Room with Operations." 

"I know." 

"You've gotta do something, Dav. Please." 

"Michael can take care of himself." Davenport refused to meet the younger man's eyes. He knew what Birkoff meant. Michael wouldn't defend himself. Not if he thought it would save Birkoff. 

Suddenly Birkoff could read the truth in Davenport's eyes. "You know. About-" 

"You and Michael. Yeah. Michael gave himself up on the condition that Operations spare you, Birk." 

Tears blurred Birkoff's vision. "Nooo!" 

Davenport patted the head of Comm on the shoulder. "Sorry, Birkoff." 

* * *

Michael stared expressionlessly into the glacial eyes of the head of Section One. He had only one regret. That he hadn't acted on his feelings for Birkoff sooner. They had so little time together. Now they would never be together again. But at least Birkoff would be alive. Operations promised him that. 

"You know, Michael, I never expected to see such naivet in a man in your position." Operations' sardonic smile grew as he considered breaking the news that he had absolutely no intention of honoring his promise. 

Michael's eyes grew wide as they focused on something over Operations' shoulder. Operations finally reacted. But it was too late. He read the identity of his captor in Michael's face. 

"If you put down the gun, we can work this out to your satisfaction, Ellison." 

The barrel of his gun pressed against Operations' neck, Jim Ellison pondered his options. He didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him. Therefore, he couldn't believe a word he said. 

"I don't think so." 

"You won't shoot me in cold blood. You police types are all the same. Hooked into an archaic system that makes true justice impossible." 

"You know, I'm not stupid. But I'm not real big on abstract concepts. You know, it's a cop thing. Concrete thinker." Ellison tapped his temple with one finger. "So give me a good reason not to fucking shoot you right now." 

"You'll never get out of here alive. And even if you did escape somehow, you'd never be able to go home again. How's that?" 

Jim pretended to think it over. "Not bad, except for one thing. I really don't have a problem with shooting you, but I promised-" Jim gestured to someone standing directly behind him. "-- _him_ that he could do it." 

Operations glared at the man standing behind Jim. "Davenport, stand down." 

A tiny smile made Davenport's lips twitch. "Let Michael go first." 

"This is not a request. It's an order." 

"Well..." Davenport drawled, moving into a better position. "I figure it this way...I shoot you, Michael takes command, and everybody gets what they want. Oh, except you." 

"You'll never get away with this," Operations spat. 

"Hmm...Michael, what do you think?" 

Michael blinked without any visible change in expression. "Is Birkoff safe?" he asked quietly. 

Davenport nodded almost imperceptibly. 

"Do it." 

Operations looked truly frightened for the first time in many years. "What about George? Oversight?" 

Michael's eyes glittered like fiery green emeralds as they flickered over Operations' face. "George has been trying to get rid of you for a long time now. I don't think he'll ask too many questions. Given the right scenario and plausible deniability." 

That was how Michael came to be in command of Section One. 

* * *

Blair was happy to be headed to the airport. Happy to be riding in a cab. Happy to be contemplating getting air sickness. Happy to be alive to be happy. 

He looked at the man sitting on the other side of the cab. So near and yet so far away. His Sentinel. "Jim, I told you. You don't have to come with me. I'm not a little kid whose hand you have to hold all the way home." 

Jim sounded weary. Running a hand over his face, he frowned. "Just making sure you get there, Chief." 

"So...just like that, we're back to square one, man?" Blair looked at the cabdriver, who seemed cheerfully oblivious to the drama unfolding in his back seat. 

"I don't know what you mean." 

"Like that fucking kiss never happened, man?" he hissed. 

"I did say I'm not much on abstract concepts, Chief." Jim stared out the window, wondering how come it didn't matter whether they were in Europe or Cascade. 

"That kiss felt pretty fucking concrete to me, Jim." 

"Maybe your hormones need a tune-up, Junior," Jim said dryly, wishing he could claim plausible deniability, too. 

"Maybe I should've used a two by four to knock some sense into you, man." 

"Your point?" 

"Man, you are so lucky that I'm going to forgive you." 

"For what, Sandburg?" 

"Oh, no, oh, no, you don't get off that easy, man. No way. I had a dream last night. You said certain things to me, man." 

Jim gazed at the man he had somehow managed to save one last time. 

"Sometimes all we have is our dreams, Chief." 

End Part 9 

Part 10 

The still-estranged couple settled themselves into their seats, comfortably situated at the back of First Class. "I'll say one thing for him. Michael has class," Jim muttered under his breath. 

Blair stared at his soon-to-be former partner. "I don't believe you, man. He didn't have to set us up this nice, you know. He didn't have to make sure we never had to fucking worry about anyone coming after us, either. But why am I bothering to explain this to you? You don't give a shit." 

Abruptly ripping the earphones out of their sealed plastic bag, Blair placed them in his ears in a blatant attempt to shut out Jim. Closing his eyes, he turned on his side, facing the window. Away from Jim. 

Blair fell into a troubled sleep, the muscles in his arms and legs jerking involuntarily now and again, like a puppy having a bad dream. It was all Jim could do to just sit there and watch, feeling as though even the most casual touch would be off-limits now. 

He had absolutely no idea how the time managed to pass. The flight seemed endless. Instead of the joyous homecoming he had hoped for, there was only endless silence and the occasional whimper from Blair as he slept on. 

By the time the plane landed in Washington, Jim was almost literally climbing the walls. For someone with hyperactive senses, a plane was a frightening place to be. Every creak spelled certain disaster. Every squeak a potential hydraulic leak. Every thump a gear that refused to deploy. 

I want my Guide back, Jim thought, his mind exhausted from trying to figure out why Blair wasn't appropriately grateful for being rescued. 

"You can't have me," came the sleepy voice from the seat next to him. 

"I made a mistake, Chief-" 

"You sure did." 

"I meant by not telling you how much I wanted you back." 

"Who is it you want back, Jim? Me or the Guide?" 

Jim looked momentarily confused. In actuality, he was so happy that they were even speaking to one another that he missed the hostile undertones in Blair's voice. 

"They're the same." 

"Do you really believe that, Jim? How many times have you gotten pissed at me because you thought my only interest in you was as a test subject?" 

Jim opened his mouth, but nothing came out. 

"Not too flattering, huh?" 

As if by divine intervention, a flight attendant appeared. "Gentlemen, we will be landing in a few moments. Please fasten your seatbelts and return your seats to the upright position." 

* * *

Without any luggage, the two men made short work of going through Customs. In minutes, they were in yet another cab, in a different traffic jam, headed away from an airport this time. 

"You can drop me off at Rainier." 

"Chief, I thought you were coming back to the loft with me." 

"Now why would you think that, Jim?" 

Jim glanced at the cabbie, then he shot a meaningful look at Blair. "Aw, come on, Chief. We've got unfinished business," he whispered. 

Blair raised an eyebrow, his expression clearly shouting, "No shit, Sherlock!" 

"Are you saying that you want me, Jim?" 

Jim colored furiously. He averted his face and turned his body towards the open window, the breeze running through his short-cropped hair. "Christ, Chief." 

"Well, gee, Jim, if you can't even say it, how do you expect to be able to do anything about it?" 

"I...." 

"Ohhh, I get it, the Guide is supposed to anticipate his Sentinel's needs or something. Well, I tend to lean more towards empathy than telepathy myself, Jim, so I dunno if I can help." 

"Chief... _Blair_...I think you're the only one who can help," Jim said hoarsely, turning to face Blair again, this time with tortured eyes. 

"That's a mighty particular itch you need scratched, Jim. Any reason it has to be me?" 

"You know why." 

"I do?" Blair turned his head and saw the turnoff for the University coming up. "Hey, man, turn right there," he directed the driver. 

"No!" Jim all but shouted. "I mean...come back to the loft with me, Blair. Please." 

"Tell me why first." 

Jim looked like he was being drawn and quartered. But no, he was merely being dragged, kicking and screaming, into the Sandburg Zone, as Blair had vowed. 

"Don't make me do this." 

"Whoa, I'm not holding you at gunpoint, Jim. Far be it for me to inflict a little pain on you for a change. I knew you wanted a sacrifice, Jim, but I fucking died for you, man, and you not only refused to take our relationship to the next level, you stopped treating me like a fucking friend. Then when my diss got leaked to the press, I did the only thing I could do. I gave up my life's work for you, man! And you've got some set of balls if you think I should be fucking grateful that you came after me when Section kidnapped me! And I know you do, I can see it in your eyes!" 

"But you are grateful, Chief. I know you are." 

"Maybe I am, but do you even fucking know why?" 

Jim shook his head the tiniest bit, afraid to take his eyes off Blair for even a moment. God, he had never seen Blair this angry, and yet...the way his eyes glittered, the way his hair fell silkily to his shoulders, the way his mouth, oh, God, that mouth had touched his, he'd kissed that mouth, and shit, yeah, he'd liked it, wanted to do it again, wanted to do it now. 

Frustrated by Jim's apparent ignorance, Blair roared, "You're in love with me, dammit!" 

The cabbie looked into his rearview mirror, wondering when he had picked up the crazy one. 

Jim actually smiled at Blair. "I know that." 

"And don't you-what?" 

"I said I know that." 

Blair gave Jim an exasperated look. "Could you possibly be more specific?" 

"I know you want the words, Blair. But we're in the middle of a fucking traffic jam, Chief, and I wanted to wait till we got back to the loft. I wanted it to be, well, romantic." 

"Romantic? You think making me crazy is romantic?" 

Jim wrapped his arms around Blair, pulling the smaller man against his body for a clear demonstration of just how much he wanted him. "Yeah, I think making you crazy is romantic. I think arguing with you is romantic. Hell, I think every time you open your mouth to speak, which is so fucking often, you should be in the Guinness Book of World Records, it's fucking romantic." 

Jim nuzzled Blair's neck, while he grabbed two fistfuls of hair. Suddenly he didn't care that he was in the backseat of a cab, stopped in a traffic jam, in full view of half of Cascade, his arms filled with suddenly willing, almost boneless Guide. 

"You just wait till I get you home, Chief." 

"Promises, promises," Blair mumbled. 

End Part 10 

Part 11-NC-17 

By the time the taxi pulled to a screeching stop in front of 852 Prospect, Blair was literally leaping from the suddenly all too confining space of the backseat he shared with Jim. "Let's go, man!" 

"Down, boy! I gotta pay the man, Chief!" 

Sheesh. If it were up to him, Blair would have gladly thrown what little cash he had at the driver and run. Feet tapping restlessly at the curbside, Blair waited impatiently for Jim to emerge from the cab. 

"Come onnnn, man." 

"Chief, cool your jets. You're acting like you've got ants in your pants. I'm not going anywhere." 

"You better be, Jim. You better get your ass up to the loft before I show you just how unruly a hungry Guide can get," Blair warned impudently. 

Jim gave his would-be lover a longsuffering look. "What's your rush, Darwin?" 

Blair rolled his eyes at the older man whose touch he craved with an increasing desperation. "Well, now that you mention it, Jim, evolution took less time." 

After settling the fare with the driver, Jim resisted Blair's attempts to draw him into his arms. "Whoa, Chief. Slow down. We're on the street here, in plain sight of everybody." 

"Everyb--? Jim! The Martians didn't just land in the middle of Times Square, y'know." 

"Yeah, but-" 

"You're getting cold feet, Jim?" Blair all but squeaked. "Shit, I knew this would happen! You are so freaking predictable, man! We've been touching each other for how long now? Four years? And suddenly it occurs to you that people might get the wrong idea?" 

Blair flounced away, or he would have, if flouncing weren't somehow a uniquely feminine thing to do. If there was one thing that Blair Sandburg was not, it was feminine. He was undeniably beautiful. But his beauty had little to do with the more feminine allure of a woman...and everything to do with the very masculine way his muscular thighs moved beneath that killer ass. When Blair pouted, that full sensual mouth looked eminently kissable. Or worse. Fuckable. 

Okay, so it wasn't about anything as shallow as sexual attraction. But that didn't keep Jim from nearly zoning on the way the sunlight glinted off Blair's long dark curls. The same long dark curls that bounced back and forth upon Blair's shoulders as he moved away from Jim. Moved away? 

"Blair!" 

That got his attention. Blair turned, his smoky blue eyes intensely focused on Jim's face, their heat a palpable thing between them. "What?" 

Jim turned both hands palm up in a gesture that said "I give up". "I'm not backing out, Chief. I swear." 

Blair considered that response for all of ten seconds before speaking. "Get your ass upstairs now, Ellison. Don't make me come over there." 

Jim couldn't help but smile. "You're a top, aren't you?" 

Blair snorted derisively, as if a mere answer would be telling entirely too much. "That's for me to know and you to find out." Pause. "And if you don't get into that elevator right now, you're going to die wondering." 

"Ooh, I love it when you...take charge," Jim quipped, barely able to keep a shit-eating grin off his face. 

* * *

The moment they were through the door, Blair backed Jim against the kitchen counter, not so gently reminding him that they still hadn't consummated their newfound feelings for each other. His erection pointedly making its presence known, Blair pressed urgently against Jim's groin even as his hands thrust themselves down the front of Jim's shirt. 

Suddenly overheated and breathless, Jim grabbed Blair's hands and held them to his chest. "What? No foreplay?" 

Blair gave Jim an exasperated look that did nothing to detract from his masculine beauty. "Shit, Jim, I think four years is long enough, don't you?" 

"You saying we've been dancing around this that long, Chief?" 

Blair claimed Jim's mouth with a heart-stopping kiss. His lips alternately kissing and licking at the prize he so avidly sought, Blair begged for entry. 

"I think the time for talk is long past, Jim. That's what I think." 

"You want me to put my money where my mouth is, right?" 

"Nooo," he drawled. "I want you to put your mouth wherever I tell you to." 

Jim held off approximately 150 pounds of suddenly overanxious Guide for a few seconds. "Shower first, Chief." 

"It's been a long, hard trip home. I'm not letting you touch me till we get cleaned up." 

"Is this non-negotiable, Jim?" 

Jim nodded slowly, the tip of his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips. Blair found himself totally mesmerized by the movement. 

"Can I come with you?" 

Jim groaned softly. "Where do you think I'm going to escape to, Chief?" 

Blair lapped gently at the base of Jim's neck, his mouth warm and pliant against his skin. "I just have this feeling, man, like I shouldn't let you out of my sight. Not for a second." 

Jim's large yet strangely artistic hands cupped Blair's face, holding him fast for a tender kiss. "I promise...this has nothing to do with getting away from you...and everything to do with what you lovingly call my "Mr. Clean" fetish," Jim remarked dryly. 

Blair's gaze burned intensely hot for several moments before he could speak. "Okay, I yield on the issue of showering alone. For now. But you damn well better leave me enough hot water to shower and wash my hair." 

Blair saw the indecision in Jim's forthright blue eyes and wondered at it. "What?" 

"Are we going to do it in my bed or yours, Chief?" 

Blair looked curiously offended by Jim's choice of words. 'Do it? We're not going to do it, Jim. It's called making love. Remember that? You were married once." 

Jim's face shut down. "Yeah, well, it didn't last all that long, Chief. Maybe that was why." 

"Why? You never had sex?" 

Jim shook his head vigorously. "Nope. Never made love." 

"But you loved Carolyn, Jim. Didn't you?" 

"I thought I did, Chief. Maybe I did. Maybe I just wasn't in love with her." 

Blair seemed nonplussed by this announcement. "Wow." Winding his fingers through Jim's velvety short-cropped hair as best as he could, Blair stared into Jim's eyes, so like and yet so dissimilar to his own. 

"Are you saying what we have is different, Jim?" Blair's whisper sounded as if it had been wrenched from deep inside him. 

"Yeah. I guess I am." 

"And not just because we're both men?" 

Jim traced a long slender finger along the side of Blair's face, his eyes intent on capturing every nuance of every change to Blair's animated expression. "I love you, Blair. I love who you are. I admit, what shape the package comes in threw me off initially, but God, you are beautiful. I don't care what that makes me. The rest of the world has no place in our bedroom." 

" _Our_ bedroom, Jim?" Blair hated the vulnerable sound of his voice, but that was exactly how he felt now. Vulnerable. Exposed. 

" _Our_ bedroom, Chief." 

Blair sighed, a satisfied noise that bespoke great contentment. "Mmm...man, just when I think I know you, and I should throw myself from the nearest bridge, because I am so sick of unrequited love, I mean, it's so Romeo and Juliet, isn't it?" 

"You earned the free pass to the shower, man, but you better miss me." 

"I don't have to miss you, Chief," Jim said huskily, unspent emotion creeping into his voice. "You're always with me. In here." He briefly touched his index finger to his chest. 

Blair reacted, his eyes widening perceptibly, his pupils dilating, turning his bright sapphire gaze the color of the midnight sky. 

"For a man of few words, you seem to know exactly what to say." 

End Part 11 

Part 12/End-NC-17 

After stripping off his clothes quickly, Jim stepped under the hot stiff spray of the shower, his aching muscles rejoicing at the way the water sluiced down his body. It wasn't as if he were tired or injured. Oddly enough, neither he nor Blair was the worse for wear after their experiences at Section One. 

Jim lathered his chest and abdomen, turning up his sense of touch so he could savor the feel of the warm liquid soap trickling into the hair at his groin. Rubbing absently at his half-erect cock, he felt it spring to full attention, like a good soldier saluting his superior. Attention on deck! Sir, yes, sir! 

He groaned in earnest as his fingers unconsciously tightened around his eager flesh. Maybe I should take care of this now, he thought. After all, I don't want to make a fucking fool of myself, popping off the first time Blair gets naked with me. 

His hands slick with soap lather, Jim stroked himself slowly. It felt too good to stop, but he didn't want to come yet. For once, he could indulge his fantasies about how good Blair was going to feel in his arms. For once, he didn't have to imagine how his tongue would feel in his mouth, or his cock hard and pushing insistently against his own throbbing hard-on. 

His legs spread apart, he could feel the water growing cooler, but he didn't care. He pumped his hand more furiously, feeling tiny tremors start at the back of his legs. For long moments, he let himself feel the anticipation of coming. But it was the thought of Blair's mouth that ended all speculation. He saw himself, his body rock-hard everywhere, including his cock, pouring his hot life essence inside that waiting mouth. 

"Oh, God! Blair!" He came hard. It had been a long, long time for him. But he knew better. That was just an excuse, a rationalization. The truth was, he hadn't wanted anyone else for a very long time. Years, maybe. 

He leaned back against the tiled wall, panting. Letting the water rinse his groin clean again, he thought, that was supposed to take the edge off, otherwise, it'll all be over but the shouting. He closed his eyes and concentrated on getting his ragged breathing back under control. 

He was still breathing heavy when the shower curtain was suddenly pulled back, with enough vehemence to cause parts of the curtain to rip away from its moorings. 

"Jim! What the hell are you doing in here, man?" 

Jim's eyes flew open, the intensity of the vivid blue eyes not lost on Blair. "Jeez, I thought maybe you fell in or something," he joked, but the laughter died in his throat. 

No one had ever looked at him that way. Except Jim. It was like being trapped in the spectral headlights of an oncoming spirit. That's how it felt, too. Like they were separate yet joined. Bonded in some inexplicable, hell, even unearthly, way. A bond that could never be undone. 

Then he couldn't help but stare at what the shower curtain had concealed. "Man, you are so fucking beautiful." That was all Blair could manage before his mouth went so dry, he could no longer speak. 

Blair bit his lip, suddenly overcome by the pent-up emotion of years of wanting and loving and needing in vain. "Jim?" 

Jim shook his head slowly. "Don't you fucking cry on me, Chief. I'm this close to losing it myself." 

Blair's heartbeat sped up, his expressive face saying things he had been convinced he would never get the chance to say. "Jim? You used up all the hot water, man," he said, a ghost of a smile working its magic on that angelic face. 

All at once Jim realized that he was still leaning against the wall, completely naked, the now-cold water threatening to shrivel important parts of him. 

"Are you coming out, man? Or do I have to come in there and get you?" 

"You'd brave a cold shower for me, Chief? Must be love," Jim said softly, looking more at peace than he had in months. 

"Didn't you notice the water was getting cold, Jim? What happened? Did you zone?" 

Jim gave his soon-to-be lover an enigmatic smile. "Funny you should ask, Chief. The fact is, you were starring in this Technicolor movie in my head." 

Blair reached in and shut off the water. Then he climbed into the tub and faced his Sentinel, his improbably warm hands splaying across Jim's unbelievably hard chest. "What was I doing?" 

Jim gave Blair the once-over with style, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You were wearing a helluva lot less than you are now, Chief." 

Blair licked the drops of water that clung to the underside of Jim's jaw, eventually running his tongue down into the well of his neck. "Was I doing this?" 

"N-no. But keep going. I'm giving you twenty minutes to cut that out." 

"Can we move this upstairs?" 

"To our bedroom?" 

Blair nuzzled the light sprinkling of hair on Jim's chest, eventually drawing the nub of one flat brown male nipple into his mouth. "You taste so good, Jim." 

"Hey, you don't have to sell me on the concept anymore, Blair. Jesus, I'm ready. I mean...that is, if you are." 

Blair drew back, and Jim gasped at the heat in those smoky blue eyes. "Jim, I've been ready for this all my fucking life, man." 

Jim sank his fingers into the springy dark curls on top of Blair's head. This was his now. His. 

"Chief, I haven't got a clue what comes next, so I hope you know you're driving. But whatever we do, I'm okay with it." 

* * *

In a role reversal that strangely made sense, Blair grabbed a huge fluffy white towel and wrapped it around Jim, moving into protective mode as though he were born to it. 

Somehow, they made it as far as the top of the stairs. 

Blair pushed Jim back, and he fell onto the bed in a boneless sprawl, a not so inconsiderable feat for a man his size. As Jim watched, hypnotized by the sight of a near-naked Blair, Blair tossed the offending garments every which way, daring Jim to say something, anything, about the dreaded House Rules. 

"Don't even think about complaining about how my clothes are going to contaminate the bedroom, man." 

Jim reached up and grabbed Blair by the hair, pulling him on top of him. "House Rules suspended indefinitely, Chief." 

He latched onto Blair's mouth like a starving man contemplated dinner, coming up for air several moments later. Breathless, Jim asked, "Why the hell did we wait so long to do this, Blair?" 

His mouth already swollen, Blair smiled as Jim touched his cheek, his lips, his brow. "Maybe we should save the analysis for later, Jim." 

That made Jim grin. "I finally want to talk, and you want to shut me up, Chief?" 

Blair moved closer, lining up their cocks, his hips giving a restless little twitch that drove Jim crazy. "Not entirely, Jim. I want to hear you moan and groan and maybe, just maybe, scream...." 

"You think you're the man to make me scream, Chief? Cocky little son of a bitch, aren't you?" 

Blair moved again, and he could feel Jim's cock, wet with natural lubrication, touching his own diamond-hard erection. Blair's tongue snaked into Jim's ear, swirling around and around the pearlescent outside. Sucking the tasty white flesh of Jim's earlobe into his mouth, Blair nibbled and licked and worried the lobe with the tiniest application of teeth. 

Jim couldn't believe he was hard again. "Blair...." 

Blair pushed back, locking his arms, until he was poised over Jim like a tribal hunter claiming his prey. "Jim, I want you so bad. But I won't do anything you're not ready for." 

"You're talking about fucking, aren't you?" 

A shadow crossed Blair's face for a moment. "I'm talking about making love, Jim. I thought we were clear on that." 

"Like crystal, Chief. But...um...what part goes where? I don't want to zig when I should've zagged." 

Bumping noses with Jim, Blair gave him a gentle kiss on the lips before resting his forehead on that magnificent profile. "Is your coordination going offline?" 

"Um...have to get back to you on that one, Chief." 

Blair smiled, a truly beatific smile, one of those 1000-watt smiles that lit up the entire room, and Jim played with his hair, wondering how on earth something like this could feel so natural, so familiar. So inevitable. 

Softly chuckling, Blair said huskily, "I'll top, bottom boy. But next time, it's your turn." 

"There's going to be a next time?" 

"There's going to be a whole lotta next times." 

* * *

Blair worked his way down the length of Jim's sculpted physique, stopping only when he found Jim's burgeoning arousal. Licking the velvety tip of Jim's cock, Blair gradually swallowed it completely, lost in the sensation of being able to touch Jim so intimately. Finally. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He could never be any happier than he was right now. 

Or so he thought. 

Again and again, he brought Jim to the brink of completion, only to pull back at the last moment. Each time he did this, it raised the stakes that much higher. Blair had a feeling that when Jim came, it would be intense enough to make an earthquake pale by comparison. 

"Are you ready, Jim?" 

Blair had already explained to Jim that it would hurt if he penetrated him. Definitely the first time. Probably the second and third time. But Blair was nothing if not resourceful. "I'll let you fuck me, Jim. As long as I stay on top and in control." 

"It's your party, Chief." 

Blair frowned. "You're being entirely too agreeable, Jim. What's up?" 

Jim buried his face in his lover's long dark curls. "You promise not to laugh?" 

"Of course. Jim...what is it?" 

"I want you to take me, Chief." 

"It'll hurt, Jim. You're not ready for that yet." 

"I want you...inside me, Chief. Where you belong." Jim's voice was barely audible. This was not a man used to speaking his heart. But he was trying. Because he knew how important Blair was. 

"I-I...shit, Jim. You trust me that much? Aren't you afraid I'll hurt you? God, man, I don't want to do anything to hurt you. You know that, Jim." Suddenly horrified, Blair gazed at Jim in disbelief. "Man, you are something else. You want me to hurt you, don't you? You've still got some dumbfuck idea in your head that you screwed up, and you think this is payback time? Jesus, Jim." 

Jim grabbed two fistfuls of Blair's hair and pulled him into a gutwrenching embrace, so tight it made it difficult for both of them to breathe. His hands trembled as he traced Blair's hairline with his fingertips, his mouth seeking its mate. "I love you, Blair. This isn't about anything else but that. I want you to be part of me," he whispered. "If that's not what you want, I can accept that. Hey, I'll take whatever part of you you're willing to share." 

Blair shook his head as he responded. "Sorry, Jim...." 

Jim closed his eyes, choking back an inarticulate noise that Blair once would have dubbed "caveman-esque". Now Blair knew differently. It was the sound of a man who was trapped inside himself, in a space where few others could go. Only Blair truly breached that place where Jim hid his deepest, innermost feelings. 

Only Blair understood. 

Touching his mouth to Jim's, Blair watched as Jim's ice-blue eyes flew open with a startled gasp. "I'm an all or nothing kind of a guy, Jim. Guess you're stuck with all of me, then." 

"Blair..." Jim said, blue eyes beseeching. 

Blair smiled, and it was like the sun coming out after a particularly hard rain. "Your ass is going to hate you tomorrow, Jim, I'm telling you." 

Jim returned the smile, unshed tears making his eyes glisten. "Love you, Blair. Want to belong to you. Only you." 

* * *

The requisite stretching took time. Blair refused to rush through this part, knowing that it could make all the difference between Jim enjoying their first encounter and regretting that he had ever laid eyes on Blair. 

"Does this hurt?" he asked, taking great care to use an almost excessive amount of lube. His well-lubricated finger poked and prodded Jim's virgin opening. 

"No...just feels...I dunno...funny." 

"Turn down your touch a bit, Jim." 

"No, I want to feel it all. Everything, Blair. I don't want to miss a thing." 

Jim's mouth set in a mutinous pout that rivaled Blair on a bad day. "Okay, man, but don't say I didn't warn you." 

By the time they progressed to three fingers, Jim was relaxed enough that he was starting to revel in the way Blair touched him so intimately. 

Blair automatically reached for a condom, but Jim grabbed him by the wrist, his grip like a vise. "I'm clean, Chief. I haven't been with anyone in over a year, and my last test was negative." 

Blair looked down at the wrist clamped so securely within Jim's grasp. "I haven't been with anyone since I moved in here," he said in a voice too low for anyone but a Sentinel to hear. 

"Chief! What about the constant parade of--?" 

"Just that, Jim. A parade. A show." He almost smiled. "Been talking to the hand so long, Jim, I hope I remember how this goes." 

Jim took the condom out of Blair's hand and put it on the nightstand. "We don't need anything between us, then. Cause there's never going to be anyone else for me, Blair. I mean that." 

"Me, too," Blair agreed, his eyes suspiciously bright. 

Jim held out his arms, and Blair went gratefully into them, snuggling under Jim's chin. "This is nice." 

"Yeah." 

A curious glint entered Jim's light blue eyes as he contemplated the Blair-sized bundle he held. "Only thing is, Chief...." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mr. Happy thinks you forgot all about him." 

"Mr. Happy, Jim?" Blair started to chuckle. "Well, damn! No wonder you haven't gotten laid in over a year. I don't know, Jim. I'm not sure I can, y'know, make Mr. Happy happy." 

Jim bared his teeth in a feral grimace, as he inhaled the scent of Blair's growing arousal. "He wants you to try," he said tongue-in-cheek. 

Blair sat up and rearranged their bodies so that he was straddling Jim. "It would be better if you lay on your stomach, Jim." 

Jim shook his head. "Want to see your face, Blair. Want to know it's you, loving me." 

"No one else, man. Only me." 

So it was that Blair finally entered Jim, inching along so carefully, Jim grew frustrated. Blair tried to hold back, but Jim's desire for Blair was so intense, the younger man couldn't resist the older man's greater strength as he pulled Blair deeper. 

When they were one, Blair stopped, reciting multiplication tables in his head to keep from coming too quickly. But Jim had other ideas. "Move, Blair. Come on...fuck me!" 

"Jim...." 

At the sound of his name on Blair's lips, Jim arched and bucked and generally tried to drive Blair over the edge. 

All of his apparently untutored movements succeeded in doing two things: they aroused both men, and they forced Blair to move more energetically inside his lover. 

"Jim! I-I...oh, God, I'm going to come!" 

"Come, baby! Come for me!" 

At the same time that Blair spilled his seed deep inside Jim's narrow channel, Jim came, spattering Blair's chest with the force of his climax. 

Giving one final groan, Jim rubbed his hands over Blair's hips and cupped his ass. Blair was so sensitive to touch at that point that he twitched. "Hang on, Chief. I got you." 

Blair smiled and lay his head down on Jim's chest. "Yeah, Jim. You got me." 

"For better or worse, right, Chief?" 

"That sounds suspiciously like you want to keep me, man." 

"Forever, Blair." 

"Never argue with a man who knows what he wants." 

End of Behind Blue Eyes 


End file.
